CHAPTER 29: THE GATHERING OF CHORDS
CHAPTER 29: THE GATHERING OF CHORDS
We held our first summer gathering at Grandpa’s Light the following month.
The valley was filled with the sound of laughter, children playing tag across the green lawns, and the smell of fresh food cooking over open campfires. Families from every walk of life sat together beneath the wide sky, unified not by bloodlines or last names, but by the shared resilience of survival.
Our father remained in his maximum-security cell block, his letters for financial assistance returned unopened to the prison mailroom every Friday afternoon. He had become a ghost in his own lifetime, completely isolated by the consequences of his choices.
Our mother stood near the flower beds, helping a young boy plant white roses along the stone road—Grandpa’s favorite.
Chelsea was at the grill, laughing with the local sheriff who had helped us clear the ridge two years ago.
Maisie ran across the grass, her hands catching the bubbles that floated through the warm afternoon air. She stopped near my chair, her face flushed with happiness as she dropped a handful of wild lavender into my lap.
“Come on, Mom! Everyone is waiting for the photo!” she shouted, grabbing my hand.
I stood up, the leather folder containing Grandpa’s final letter tucked securely inside the house desk.
May you like
“Where are we taking it, Maisie?” I asked, smiling down at her.
“Right in front of the greenhouse,” she chirped, dragging me toward the light.
